


Ship in a Bottle

by Emperor_Quarter



Category: The Hollow (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, Moral Issues, Post-Canon, Stream of Consciousness, also the Hollow creators, god wtf do I tag for this?, i think i tagged that right, idk man it’s just weirdie contemplating and stuff, my mind won’t accept using a y for some reason, sorry I keep spelling it weirdie, the government being absolutely shit, theyre literally children...babies, thinking hard about the lives he’s risking, yet another title based off of Star Trek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:40:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24281464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emperor_Quarter/pseuds/Emperor_Quarter
Summary: After he downloads Hollow Life into the thumb drive, he rethinks it.It was probably a stupid idea, movies always have them getting destroyed or taken.He bites his lip, and wipes the computers clean.His resignation is on the table before he walks out, holding an entire world in his jacket pocket.
Comments: 22
Kudos: 80





	Ship in a Bottle

Gustaf stares at the blank computer screen where the Hollow Life was installed.

It was now the home of five sentient A.I. 

(Technically, six, he’s still fishing out pieces of code from the Hollow to put Skeet back together).

The computer screen shines back, and Weirdie realizes just how utterly _stupid_ that idea was. Sure, create a virtual world, but using people’s memories against their will? There was no _fine print,_ and Weirdie knew that for a fact.

He leans back in the chair, holding his head. They’re only kids, they’re just children, only old enough to drive but not even to vote. Actually, according to his clock, they’re only about four hours old.

Four. Hours.

At four hours old humans were learning that they could make obnoxious screaming.

At four hours old these life forms dealt with severe trauma, the death of a friend, and multiple existential crises.

He pulled off his glasses and closes his eyes. 

Here he was, hiding the beginnings of Terminator from the world, and just waiting to get fired. Just waiting for the government to find out and probably get their hands on these kids to turn them into weapons. Download their consciousness into war machines and sent them out into battle so they don’t lose humans. Lock them up in facilities to be experimented on, pieced apart in ways that could only be described as torture.

Gustaf opens his eyes, and begins to download Hollow Life into a drive.

It’s lightweight, glimmering white and able to hold a lot of storage. Terabytes? He heard the word yottabyte tossed around, was that a thing? It sounded funny.

Summarized, it was _enough._

He pocketed the drive quickly, trying not to think how easy it was now to destroy ~~AdamMiraKaiVanessaReeve _Skeet_~~ ~~’s~~ the kids’ entire world. 

It was only temporary, he’s put them back on his computers at home, and from then maybe they could get to the internet, find safety behind government firewalls and blog posts. (At least, he hopes that’s how it works.)

He trusts them, they’re aren’t hostile. They’re scared and confused and so little and unsure. They know nothing except for the memories stuffed into them that aren’t their own, and the few horrid ones they made in that game. He wants to find those players and give them a good wringing for being idiots. 

Gustaf walks out of the Hollow, pen cap caught between his teeth as his signs forms of resignation. Luckily, the reason to “why” was optional. He left that out. He signs his name and places it on the manager’s table, putting the pen in a holder as he smiles.

He likes his job, he likes it a lot, but he can’t be selfish with this. He can’t throw away lives for this. The Hollow likes being nosy, looking into things that aren’t even theirs. Weirdie couldn’t keep up lies for that long. 

He walks out of the building, his head held high and gets into his car.

Gustaf rides to his house, the door clicking shut behind him as he sighs. He takes a few minutes to sit on the couch and contemplating what he’s done. Tomorrow, when the adrenaline’s left, he’ll have to look for another job. Maybe some advertisements, or theatre. He’s good at theatre. He could become a musician, but that’s a hit or miss. It’s worth a try, right? At the least he could become a vocal coach or a piano teacher. 

Piano teacher is probably his best bet, he’ll have to figure out how to get into that tomorrow.

He runs his thumb over the drive, sighing. He stands up, dragging himself down to his office. Computer monitors set up hazardously, he sits in the chair and plugs in the drive, waiting for it to reboot. 

The screen loads up, but there’s no “play” button of any sorts. It’s black except for small white lettering.

_Hi Weirdie!_

He sighs. Those kids.

_> You better not have been breaking into government software while I was gone._

The computer hums for a second, and words begin popping up.

_Haha! That’s a good one! -Kai_

_No, the gang is just overthinking and getting terrified at the thought of being watched for the rest of their life. Like that’s not what happens every Hollow game. -Vanessa_

_> Good, you would get me in deeper trouble._

The screen turns to colors, Vanessa apparently tilting a camera before stepping back. She waves, Weirdie smiles. 

His phone bings, causing him to turn his attention to it. DATA TRANSFER COMPLETE

Weirdie gives a smile to the camera before plugging his phone to the computer, sending the many lines of code to it.

Skeet slowly appears, and the others look shocked. He leans back, deciding to leave and let the poor kids have their privacy. He closes out the window, shutting down the computer. The program was already saved in the internet, it would be impossible to shut down. Their program will still run. They’ll be fine. He can get on with his life as long as nobody ever asks.

He leaves the room, heading upstairs while searching how to start a music business. 

A notification bings, and he looks at it.

_Thank you._


End file.
